


It's Better to Feel Pain (Than Nothing at All)

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-16 17:18:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeyne blames herself after Robb returns from the Red Wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Better to Feel Pain (Than Nothing at All)

**Author's Note:**

> I noticed the number of stories with Robb Stark tagged as a character was approaching 1000, and I'd die inside if the thousandth story starring my favorite character was an incest pairing. Enjoy?

Jeyne stood between two stone towers, each with vines snaking upwards towards the sky, and crumbling stone bricks stained a dark red. A cloud blocked the sun from view, and darkness fell over the entire castle. Before Jeyne could react, a wave of blood crested over the tops of the walls, and began to fill the courtyard. The river of blood that poured into the castle knocked aside chairs, tables, and instruments set up for a feast. _Or maybe a wedding_.

Jeyne sat up in bed, the bedding pooling around her waist, leaving her heaving chest bare to the cold. It took her a momemt to remember where she was. She was alone at Riverrun; the other side of the bed where Robb usually slept was empty. Jeyne sighed and stood up, wrapping the blankets around her shoulders.

Robb spent more time in the chair next to the fire than he did in the bed with her. Sure enough, he was sitting there, facing the flames, painting his shadow on the ceiling. His eyes were clenched shut, his breathing heavy. "Robb," she said softly, shaking his shoulder gently. He snapped awake, looking around quickly, his eyes wide with panic. His eyes fixed on Jeyne, and he seemed to calm. His breaths grew more steady, and he ran his hands through his hair.

"Were you dreaming about the wedding?" she asked. Robb nodded. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Robb gently took her wrist and pulled it off his arm. He stood up, leaving Jeyne to lean against the arm of the chair alone. 

"No," he said, rather roughly. He hates me, she realized. Why shouldn't he?

  
*** 

Once, he had loved her, even if he did marry her to preserve her honor. She was his light in the darkness of war, his cloud hope in the valley of despair. Jeyne was so sure she would give him an heir then. She wanted to give him an Eddard and a Brandon, to replace the corpses of his brothers with sons bearing his hair and maybe her eyes. He threw away the Frey support when they married, and she desperately wanted to repay in some way, give him something other than empty promises and hopes. 

When he rode with his army to the Frey wedding ( _the Red Wedding_ , as it was now called) she had caught up with him, ignoring the rain soaking her cloak. She had clung to Robb like an anchor, sobbing into his chest and begging him not to go. He had told her not to worry, he had his men with him, and he’d be in friendly territory. Nothing would go wrong, he had promised her. 

Later, when the Blackfish gave her the news, that Robb had been attacked at the Twins, maybe even killed, she sent everyone away, leaving herself alone in her room at Riverrun. She sobbed and prayed to the Seven that they might give him back safely to her.

The day he came back, it was raining just as hard as the day he left. The men guarding the walls, slick with the water, hadn't noticed his approach until he was practically against their walls, the ripped direwolf banner flapping in the wind. 

She ran out to him, wrapping her arms around him and refusing to let go, ignoring the looks his men gave her. They were both soaked to the bone, but underneath his cloak and boiled leather he felt warm and safe.

Jeyne was sure any love he had for her died when the Freys attacked him, when they murdered his mother, kidnapped his uncle, slaughtered his banner men, and butchered his wolf. He never talked about how he survived, how he managed to escape the Twins while his men were being killed. Jeyne asked him about it, the night he came back, alone in their chambers as she helped him shed his wet garments. He didn't answer, but she had a hunch that Greywind was behind it, maybe dragging him to safety. 

 

***

 

"You should rest, your grace," Jeyne said. The entire sentence seemed wrong. Robb hated being called titles, he hadn't been born a king and the formality bothered him, made him feel separated from his men. But calling him by his name seemed too familiar; what if he didn't want to hear his name on her lips? It had been three days of this, the uncomfortable titles and of his nightmares, dreams so terrible he preferred to stay awake than face his mind. Three days since he came back to her at Riverrun, scarcely a month after he had left in the first place.

Robb said nothing, only faced the window, his expression betraying nothing. "Robb," she ventured again, standing up and taking his hands into hers, leading him back to the bed.

He stiffened, and Jeyne wondered if he would pull his arms loose, storm out of the room and leave her alone. "I don't want to go back to sleep," he said, his eyes full of fear. He sounded very much like a child, and she would have commented on it if she didn't know about the nightmares that haunted him, the ghosts of the men he had unknowingly lead to their deaths when he went to the wedding. 

"Just rest then," she said, wrapping her arms around him and tucking her head in the crook of his neck. "I'll make sure you don't fall asleep."

Again, Jeyne thought he meant to turn around and leave her. Why should he trust the daughter of a traitor? Why should he let his guard down around a girl whose own mother prevented him from gaining an heir? _He shouldn't_ , Jeyne thought miserably.

Robb murmured something she didn’t catch into her hair, something that sounded like assent, and walked to the bed, with Jeyne’s arms still around him. Robb pulled her lightly to the bed, his arms feeling like calling rather than a binding, like a suggestion rather than a demand.

                Jeyne wriggled forward until Robb’s head was pressed against her chest, his breath blowing hot against her neck. She ran her hand through his auburn hair. It had been a long time since they were this intimate, before he left for the Frey wedding maybe, and it felt right. Jeyne wondered if he would be doing this if he wasn’t so tired. His eyes, looking upwards at her, slowly slid shut as his body relaxed. Jeyne had half a mind to wake him up as she promised, but it had been so long since he got a good night of sleep, and a king needed sleep if he was to run a kingdom.

                As Robb’s breathing steadied, Jeyne studied his face. The creases on his face slowly disappeared with the sleep that came. Jeyne desperately wished the gods would let him sleep without dreams, to give him a night of peace not haunted with the ghosts of his friends and banner men.

                “I’m sorry,” she whispered to him, not knowing if he even heard her. All she heard in return was his soft breathing; all she felt was his breath on her throat. She closed her eyes. _Maybe one day he’ll forgive me_ , she thought. _Maybe one day._

 

***

Jeyne woke to an empty bed once more. The sunlight streamed through the window, making her blink and cover her eyes. Robb was on the other side of the room, pulling his breeches on. Jeyne stood, pulling the sheets with her. He smiled as she walked towards him.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked. He dropped his gaze to his feet, and begins lacing his boots. He nodded distractedly, but Jeyne can tell he was lying. She doesn’t ask him about it.

Jeyne watched him, the wrinkles on his forehead returning with the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders. “I’m sorry, Robb,” she whispered for the second time. He looked up, confusion written on his face.

“For what?” he asked, his brow knitted in puzzlement.

“You lost your wolf, your mother, and your friends because you married me.” His piercing gaze was full of concern, but she couldn’t help but look down at the floor. Robb stepped closer to her. “You might have lost the war, and it would all be my fault, and you were nearly killed, and,” she stopped and forced herself to slow down.

“Jeyne,” he said softly, and took her chin in his hand, gently lifting it upwards to meet his gaze. She looked up at him, her eyes stinging with unspilled tears. He pulled her against him and pressed his lips against hers. She hadn’t kissed him since he left, she wasn’t sure if he wanted to kiss her any longer, but now she realized just how much she missed it, the closeness to Robb, the feeling of his mouth on hers, his arms pulling her closer.

She pulled back to catch her breath, resting her hands on his shoulder, pushing him back ever so slightly as he tried to pull her back in and recapture her lips. “I don’t want you to hate me,” she admitted.

Robb shook his head. “I could never hate you, Jeyne,” he said. He picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, kissing her upwards along her jaw.  “I love you,” he whispered into her ear.

As Robb set her down on the bed, with him leaning over her, raining wet kisses along her throat, Jeyne felt whole for the first time since he left for the wedding. When he unwrapped the sheets she had coiled around her, pressing his mouth against her chin, Jeyne felt almost human again, with Robb’s beard scratching pleasantly against her face.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from "Stubborn Love" by the lumineers. I do not own the rights to anything related to Game of Thrones.


End file.
